Ulteriour Motives
by Asaish
Summary: This sort of pertains to Yami No Matsuei. A young man named Asata Kawashita has a dark past, and an even darker future.
1. Default Chapter

Ulteriour Motives - Chapter 1  
(Disclaimer: I own these characters and this story, except the name Ansatsu, which comes from a Yu-Gi-Oh! Card, designed by Kazuki Takahashi.)  
  
"One day, it will all be alright," she told me, whispering into my ear and stroking my hair softly," if you stay with me it will be okay." Her purple eyes looked tenderly into my blue ones, shining through my soul intently, concentrating with his heart.  
The fire warmed our close bodies, comfortably still whilst the logs crackled and embers of glowing red-orange shot above and floated down somewhere on the stone hearth. I'm sure that the happiness through pain in my eyes shows as does the contentment and loving in his.  
Waking, the pain is all that I, Asata, can feel as the bitter truth sinks in, its coppery taste like that of the rich, red blood that flows through my veins. Well, no more. I can't stand it. Loving someone without mutual feelings was always a downfall of mine, which I think I must most certainly be notorious for.  
My medium-brown hair and sapphire eyes are all but extraordinary and exceptionally notable, and a downfall of somewhat anti-social behaviour might never help, but I figure that to "get" anyone, I shall be better off portraying myself. Asakuri Yurimoto is the woman that is my delectable weakness, somehow smashing through the hard covering of my heart, but seemingly only to toy for a while. God knows, much of the time, looking back, the woman you were pining over never knew anything of the likes - why should she? Love is an empty, never fulfilled feeling - at least in my experience. The other can never even have the slightest premonition of what you may be feeling, and even if they did, why should the human race care? They were created to be concerned only for themselves.  
It is the pain of the ansatsu, so great that they must cover it with obsession of sorts. Whichever they choose is dependent on their character traits, and unfortunately mine is the infatuation with a member of the opposite sex. It keeps my mind off of the memories. Maybe not all the time - the present is clear but my past is submerged, the pain inside me will continue. Sometimes it feels withering, remembering small bits of my life but not having anyone to reminisce with or to console me, nothing of the sort. It is the curse of the ansatsu to revolve their lives around their suffering and procrastinate deeply, or not to do anything about it at all.  
Maybe one thing will be clearer - as much as it can be at this point - if I try to explain myself here. Asakuri is a very dear yet, in my standards new, friend. Everything she says opens up gateways to my eyes, branching out into new possibilities, yet my own mind sets it down and doesn't accept them, sifting my hopes down again like disturbed sand settles in the bottom of a lake. Yurimoto's appearance is nothing short of spectacular, her amethyst eyes sparkle in the jealous sun and swallowing moon, her dark russet, changing-length hair glinting in spots, beautifully and healthily. Her light peach skin is soft and warm, and she conceals it usually with anything bright and noticeable, often sporting her silver eyeglasses either in her purse or on her face.  
Time had never disgraced what relationship we had - she always made me feel smart and cared for, and I tried to do the same for her, as much as I feel like I horribly fail time after time. I would never really know if I did or not - she never seemed like much of a talker. I know it's my ansatsu that gives me trouble and discord in every relationship I have, like two magnets facing same poles. I'm not even completely sure of what my ansatsu is yet - not the fine-tuning, anyway. There is an "agent" of sorts that apparently tracks these things for an agency, and educates those with it, and he chooses to use the terminology of a "gift" for the ansatsu. Supposedly you can do great and awesome things if you can control it, but I'm not sure I would know, for I've never heard anything of the sort before. I suppose it would not be widely accepted, anyway. This agent has vowed to discreetly come to my apartment to tell me more in the morning.  
Ah, morning. It is two o'clock presently, so if I wish to be prepared by eight o'clock, I should try to think less and sleep more. Not to think of these things at such an hour. 


	2. Ulteriour Motives Chapter 2

Ulteriour Motives - Chapter 2  
(Disclaimer: I own these characters and this story, except the name Ansatsu, which comes from a Yu-Gi-Oh! Card, designed by Kazuki Takahashi.)  
  
It chases me down the hall - it is now, even as I speak. Down this long - actually, seemingly endless - much too brightly lit, white washed corridor. Spotless, except for the thick, rich red blood smears on the tiled floor. My lungs burn but every other part of me is numb, edging me to get the hell out of where I am, if only I could find a way. My eyes are burning from the white. My depth perception is becoming lost and tunnel - vision is taking over. I suppose one might call this blindly running.  
And what am I running from? This is the most horrible part - wait, I don't know, I can't comprehend the difference between the ground and sky now. I can't turn around for I will surely perish, and it is almost soundless except for the slapping of its feet against the linoleum. I'm afraid to turn around - but I feel a strange yearning to know what it is. I sense the curiosity of Orpheus, looking back to his beautiful Eurydice, only to have her taken away. What an admirable time for the Earth- shattering white lights to completely flicker out into a black oblivion. Perhaps if I make sure to try not to make any noise, it can't get me. just don't turn around to receive punishment. It touches me! I can feel its hot breath against my cheek, and I catch a small glimpse of something that looked remotely like a face. Then I fall into a void. 


	3. Ulteriour Motives Chapter 3

Ulteriour Motives - Chapter 3  
(Disclaimer: I own these characters and this story, except the name Ansatsu, which comes from a Yu-Gi-Oh! Card, designed by Kazuki Takahashi.)  
  
The digital clock's buzzing attempt to wake me was loud and highly effective. A jump from a state of shock jumped through my previously idle body, wrapped in comfortable and soft sheets and comforters. I felt my hand unconsciously fumble for the sliding button that shut the atrocious clamour off, then scratching the side of my head.  
"Let us get up, Asata," I muttered to myself. My will pulled my legs out of bed and set my feet on the floor, only for me to rise and turn on the shower. Stepping in, deviant blessed water streaming in rigid but soft torrents over my face and back.  
I stepped out, wrapping a towel around my body and another, smaller one around my damp hair, making sure it would not drip. Just then, the doorbell rang. I looked up out of the bathroom door at my oaken front entrance.  
"Shit, who could that be? I hope it's not that agent, he's over forty- five minutes early." I walked to the door, taking my time, and looked through the peephole. Sure enough, it was the agent. I sighed, annoyed at his punctuality, but opened the door nevertheless. If he could know about my ansatsu, he would know that I was standing on the other side of this door.  
Upon release of the lock, the wooden fortress slipped away and revealed a familiar face. The man took off his sunglasses and slipped them into his breast pocket, reminding me slightly of a friend. He then smiled, looking up at me.  
"Am I too early? I thought it would be a nice surprise to catch you before I was supposed to, and get a glimpse of your normal, everyday life. I can see that you are not dressed though." I raised my eyebrows at him, somewhat irritated but still feeling rather friendly.  
"Yes, you are early, but you may come in and make yourself at home, Mister.?"  
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, sticking out his hand to shake mine, "Yurisatso Tahashiu." I shook his hand, noticing it was rather large. For the first time, I also realized that he was a rather large, lean man, and also quite handsome. I looked down for a minute, and then motioned toward one of the black leather sofas, separated by a small glass table with a silver frame.  
"I will be finished dressing shortly, please sit, Mr. Tahashiu." He nodded and sat on the couch with a comfortable posture, folding his hands in his lap and looking about my home.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
As I walked out of my bedroom, opening the door, I noticed he was still in the same position on the sofa, with his hands folded and head down, seeming to enjoy the rest he was perhaps getting from his hard work. My shoulder-length brunette hair was now dry; my clothing was on - black creased slacks, a white button-up shirt, a black tie and leather shoes of the same colour. I stood in the doorway for a moment and noted to myself to make some tea for the both of us while discussing this business of many a great oddity.  
"Mr. Tahashiu, I will be in the living room in just a moment, I am making some tea for us." I watched for his reaction. Yurisatso looked up with his large brown eyes and smiled, a small, thin line across his somewhat pale face, and nodded.  
"That will be nice, some tea. No one has ever really offered me anything of the kind. Actually, you'd be surprised at something - maybe about as surprised as I was." I talked to him from my kitchen in a little bit of a louder voice while filling the pot with water to boil.  
"What's that?" He seemed hesitant for a moment. Not because of the delay in his speech, but because it just felt like he was irresolute. I glanced at him from the doorway with no door, and he rubbed his temples slowly with his pointer and index fingers. Then he looked straightforward and spoke:  
"This means nothing toward you of course, but most people with this. gift. cannot control it - or themselves. Mostly all others have found themselves in mental hospitals where no doctor can understand how to help someone as special as that. It's the instinct of the person. But the people I've visited. Jesus. Your home is beautiful, how do you keep yourself under such. lock and key, if I can call it that?" Now it was my turn to hesitate, setting the kettle on the stove and turning the gas burner on and watching the steam move up the outside of the metal due to the heat.  
"Keep myself under. controlling myself. what." I looked puzzled and lost, I'm sure; I had no idea of how he knew any of this. Mr. Tahashiu looked at me and shook his head, somewhat disappointedly, and then looked reassured after seeing the worried expression on my face.  
"Don't fret, Mr. Kawashita, we will find out what it is, soon enough," he said. As soon as he had finished the sentence, my teakettle started its incessant, extremely loud and irritating whistle as steam shot up through the angled nozzle's hole. With a quick flick of my wrist, the burner was shut off and the shrieking had departed. Two cups sat empty on the slick black kitchen counters - an expensive marble - and were gratefully filled with the swirling hot clear liquid. A tea bag was dropped into each, making much the same noise that a pebble dropped into a lake makes. Both were brought into the social room and placed on brushed titanium coasters on the zenith of the glass-top table. He watched the white teacups descend.  
"Thank you," he said quietly, yet gratefully. I nodded to him and sat on the sofa across from him, slipping my shoes off and tucking my feet underneath the opposite leg. I watched him pick up the cup and gently sip some of the liquid herb, and then placed it back down again on the shining coaster.  
"Mr. Tahashiu, what did you mean by control? Does it not look like I am controlling my . life?" I asked this politely, but he seemed uncomfortable.  
"Asata, here is the problem. You seem fine. This may not seem like a problem to you, but it is - oh yes. In my line of work, definitely - It's all too common to be invited into one's home to a sullen face with sunken- in eyes; greasy hair; you name it. Pots and pans and anything else you can eat off of littering the sink even though the person looks like they haven't eaten a real meal in months. The apartments - always apartments - most often have little furniture, if any, and are never decorated. Do you see the problem? Your living space is an apartment, but it is exquisitely furnished. Glass table, not one, but two leather sofas, a snow-white carpet, and look at you. You look completely healthy, yet you sound somewhat depressed. Whatever is making you depressed, I'm sure that's the problem." I stood dumbfounded by his explanation of my home, and his very quick evaluation of my state of mind.  
"I look none the sort, Tahashiu, how did you know such a thing?"  
"Well," he started, "One must be one to know one. I am an ansatsu also, trained by the best to be the best. The society sees real potential in you, Asata." He ran a hand through his dark, somewhat long hair. 


	4. Ulteriour Motives Chapter 4

Ulteriour Motives - Chapter 4  
(Disclaimer: I own these characters and this story, except the name Ansatsu, which comes from a Yu-Gi-Oh! Card, designed by Kazuki Takahashi.)  
  
"Potential in me? I see. Well, I might as well tell you what is going on, or has been, since you know what I'm feeling anyway."  
"Hold it," he commanded. "This is an instinct inflicted with this responsibility. Do you not find yourself aware of people's intentions and feelings before they even make them apparent?" I looked at him, thinking and knowing he was right, not saying a word. "That's what I thought," he smiled. "Now tell me about what the hell is going on," he articulated, picking up his tea once again. I started in:  
"Well. ever since I can remember, which is from the time I was quite young, I recall never being happy - always ashamed of happiness. My parents both were killed when I was around the age of four, in a shootout murder in the city. No one knows why the men shot my parents. It seemed random, almost, but I have a feeling that it was nothing of the sort. Anyway, I was taken into the custody of the state and raised in something similar to an orphanage, only better for my parents were allegedly intelligent enough to leave me money. Old money," I said, shrugging.  
"I went to school like regular children, obsessing about my outward appearance yet blocking others out emotionally, as I still have some of a tendency to do. It's like an intuition. Of course, because of this and my exceptional grooming, other children usually stayed away from me. I had but one true friend in all of my childhood, teenager years, and early adulthood, but. she is dead now," I said, looking down at my carpet. "She was murdered in a shoot-by in the city as well. There was nothing anyone could do for her; it was right through her stomach. Of course, this left me completely devastated; my life in shambles, but I had to pick myself up and move on no matter how hard it was." I let out a long, speech-inflicting sigh. Mr. Tahashiu looked at me and nodded in understanding. He was either a very good listener; could block people out; or understood what I was saying. I expected the latter, by what he'd told me. Hearing no resistance for my speaking, I decided to continue. 


End file.
